I couldn't understand anything other then the fact that I was breathing. It felt like I had bricks piled on top of my chest. The smell of smoke began to drift into my thoughts and I could hear the sound of sirens and yelling people. I felt myself being carried, I was aware that my arms were limp, swinging as I was moved. Suddenly fresh are was biting at my face, tearing its way through the smoke in my lungs like it was evicting it. My body tried to work with it, forcing me to cough and pain shot though my abdomen.
"I need a medic!" I felt the vibration of the words, and I was placed on something hard and cold. Something was pressed to my face, shoving more fresh air into my mouth, my body continued to heave the foreign poison out of my lips, but something was holding me down, people! I could feel their hands pressing down on me. Something about the pressure was comforting, it didn't matter if they were helping or trying to hurt me, they were there.
I felt something get stabbed into my arm, and the darkness that weighed down on my eyelids was replaced with a bright fluorescent light. The last thing I remember was seeing someone lean over me, and like someone was closing a curtain, the light got smaller and smaller until I was left alone in darkness.
Dean pressed his head into his hands against his head. He was trying to get into the mindset of going to bed. Having had just come back from the future where his brother was the devil and the world had been taken over by Croatians, he just wanted a few moments of shuteye before dragging his brother back into the life where Dean could keep an eye one him.
Just as he laid down on the bed, shut his eye and felt himself begin to drift off, he heard his phone begin to ring. "Son of a bitch..." He grumbled, rolling over in the sheets and snatching it off the bedside table. The number wasn't saved to his contacts, but that hardly meant anything. People in his life were constantly getting new numbers and ditching the old ones. "What?" He said.
"May I please speak with Dean Winchester?" The voice wasn't one that Dean recognized, and he found himself put off and confused.
"Who's calling?" Dean questioned.
"My name is Mary-Anne Lofstead, I am the attorney for the Halliwell family, I understand that you are familiar with Melinda Halliwell?" Dean searched for the name in his groggy mind, it was to late at night for him to be thinking this in depth. After a few moments the name rung a bell.
"San Francisco, right?" He asked, he hadn't been there since he was a teenager, but it was around the time be started hooking up with girls, Melinda had been one of the first girls he'd had the pleasure of spending the night with.
"Yes." She said, "I'm sorry to inform you that Melinda was killed the night before last. And your children are currently at the hospital in critical condition." Dean couldn't have been more shocked if a house had been dropped on him.
"Wo, wo, wo, I think you have the wrong guy, I don't have kids."
"Well your name is on their birth certificate and Melinda left me this number as a way to contact you." Dean shook his head, there was no way, he hadn't even had this number for a year, how would Melinda have it?
"Their, as in plural?" He asked.
"They are triplets. Two boys, one girl." Mary-Anne seemed to be getting frustrated with him but was hiding it somewhat well. "Melinda had left very strict instructions that they be put into your custody if no one in her family was able to take them." Dean couldn't think straight.
"Triplets?" He sat up in the bed.
"If you want a paternity test, I can arrange it." She said, "but the doctors can't do anything until they have a parent here to make medical decisions." Dean was already shaking his head.
"Listen, I'm the last person that needs to be making any medical decisions about myself, let alone three kids. Don't they have other family?"
"No, the rest of Melinda's family was also killed, the triplets were the only ones to survive." That switched something in his mind. The family of his supposed children were killed only a few weeks after lucifer was sprung from the cage. It was to big to be considered a coincidence. It didn't matter if they were really his kids or not, even the possibility that they were painted huge targets on their backs.
"Are they in San Francisco?"
"Yes, San Francisco Memorial Hospital. Will I be expecting you?" She asked, and Dean cursed himself.
"Yeah I guess. It's gonna take me awhile, I'm coming from Kansas."
"That's fine, hopefully they'll be in better shape when you arrive."
Dean did the math in his head; the kids should be 15 going on 16. Granted he didn't really consider that to be a kids age. Teenagers had their own age group for a reason. He debated on calling Sam but decided that he would give him this time to continue on with his 'normal' life. Dean would crush that dream soon enough. Dean needed to take care of this on his own.
It had taken him about a day to reach San Francisco. He was definitely feeling the lack of sleep, so he drowned himself in coffee and caffeine pills as he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. He had called the lawyer when he was coming into the state, in return she gave him the floor and room number. The only way Dean could think about this without drinking was to think of it like a case.
He'd go in a talk to the siblings and evaluate what to do from there. The Mary-Anna was waiting for him outside the hospital room. "Dean Winchester?" She asked, extending her hand to him. He took it.
"Yeah..." He peeked around her into the room to find three beds, two side by side and one across from the other two.
"They aren't awake yet." She said. "the doctors have them on heavy pain killers."
"What happened?" He asked. He hadn't had a chance to look anything up on his drive over.
"There was a fire, the police aren't sure what caused it, but they believe there was foul play." It sounded like she was trying to contain herself, Dean didn't know much about the situation, but he knew that Mary-Anne was at least fond of the Halliwells. "They," she nodded into the room, "weren't burned to bad, but Calliope has several broken ribs and when they found her she had shards of glass imbedded in her arms.... she's got a few broken ribs too. The boys both have serious concussions, Andrew has a broken arm, all three of them have severe smoke inhalation." She sighed, "Sebastian's been drifting in and out of sleep all day. He's the least injured."
"A fire?" Dean asked, that's ironic. He didn't say that out loud though.
"Yes. I have the paternity test all set up, all I need is a mouth swab from before I can get it all to the lab." Dean nodded, still looking into the room. She told him what to do and she placed the cotton thing into a bag. Dean wrinkled his nose at the thought of people messing with it. She placed the plastic bag into her purse on her arm. "If you'd like to, you can wait inside. I need to run this down." She patted Dean on the shoulder and walked back down the hall.
Dean stood outside for several more minutes, before he took a careful step inside. The lights were off, the shades pulled down. The only reason he could see was the light from the hallway. The first bed had who he guessed to be Andrew, he was the only one with a cast on. He had an oxygen mask over the lower half of his face, all three of them did.
The next bed held another boy, Sebastian was his guess. Him and the other Andrew looked incredibly similar, but Dean could tell them apart rather easily. The last bed held the girl and he was slightly taken aback. She was the spitting image of his mother, down to the blond curls. Dean looked them all over again and sighed.
"Son of a bitch..."